Bending Reality
by PureJasmineBlossom
Summary: The Zutara Week prompts as segments in a 7-part story. Deals with reality, perception, and the things a mind can do to protect itself. Rating may change, as will summary.
1. Serendipity

Sometimes I look back on those days and almost immediately, the what-ifs begin to swoop down, like hideous vultures filling their already engorged bellies with what scraps of sanity I have left. I wonder, what if I had done this instead of that. What if I had said that instead of this? How might things have turned out? It's enough to make anyone go mad. And that's usually when the laughter starts, for, if I listen to _them_, I'd been mad long before those days. Regardless, the laughter comes because _they_ weren't there to see it. The laughter comes because _they_ don't know what it felt like. The laughter comes because it's what I have left. The two of us would laugh all day long. That was what we did. We laughed. It's what I have left - the laughter we shared. Or did we? Eventually my brain gets so confused, so muddled, that it stops and the tears replace the questions.

Most of this is in the night, as I lay in my bed (if it can be called that), listening to the chorus of the crickets, accompanied by the orchestra of cries and screams. For not everyone here can lie in bed, contemplating the things that pass through my brain. Some here are crazier than I. But that's for the end, isn't it? And with all of these journeys, there has to be a beginning. All of this had to have started somewhere, didn't it?

**Part I - Serendipity**

"Mom, can we go to the park today? Pleeaase?" Zuko was neglecting his breakfast, staring intently at his mother with a face of utmost pleading.  
Ursa didn't even look up from the letter she was reading. "Finish your meal."  
"But can we?"  
"Eat and we'll see."

The 8-year old eyed the bowl of hot cereal sitting before him with a look of minor disgust and disappointment. He hated being cooped up in the house. It was big, but the more time he spent in the walls, the more cramped it felt. He needed to see the sky and sit on the grass and fell the breeze. Grudgingly, he picked up the spoon, some of the cereal slopping off the sides, landing back into the bowl with moist _plops_. With a deep breath, he shoved the spoon in his mouth, immediately swallowing as fast as he could. The trick, he had learned ages ago, was not to let too much of it touch your tongue. As soon as he swallowed, his glass of juice was at his lips and a mouthful was following the cereal to his stomach. Small spoonfuls of cereal, a quick swallow, rinse, and repeat. That was how you ate this stuff and lived to tell about it.

"Slow down," his mother said, still not looking up from her letter.

Zuko paid little heed to her words, continuing with the same process.

"Zuko, I said slow down."

Another spoonful, another quick gulp of juice.

"_Zuko_."

Another spoonful, another quick gulp of juice.

Finally, she had no choice but to grab his hand, some of the cereal on it slopping back into the bowl. _Plop_. Amber eyes met amber eyes. Stern eyes met distant eyes that didn't quite comprehend their surroundings.

"Zuko, did you hear me?"

There was no answer, just another long stare.

"_Zuko_."  
"Ma'am?"  
"Sow down."  
"Yes ma'am."

Her eyes lingered on her son for a moment as he turned back to his bowl, his movements stiff and somehow unnatural. They reminded her of some of those machines the companies were coming out with. At length, she turned back to her letter, though she continued to watch the boy just on the periphery of her vision.

"Mama?"  
"Mm?"  
"Can we go to the park?"  
"Did you eat?"  
"You were watching me."

Ursa looked from her letter to his bowl. It was mostly empty. A very small amount lingered on the sides and in the bottom, but that was just one of those things that just couldn't be helped. His glass of juice was completely empty, a few grains of his cereal sitting in the bottom, a product of childhood backwash. Again, it was just one of those things that couldn't be helped.

"Go wash up."  
"Are we going?"  
"As soon as I talk to Lee."

She could have meant two different people by this statement. There was Lee The Housekeeper and Lee The Tutor. Given that it was a weekend, she likely meant Lee The Housekeeper. Lee The Cook Who Always Made Him Hot Cereal. Zuko hated the hot cereals. They were bland and they made him gag. One of the rare times his father had sat down for breakfast with his family, Lee had made Zuko the hot cereal he hated the most and he had nearly blown chunks all over the table.

His father hadn't eaten breakfast with his family for nearly three weeks after that.

Zuko got up from his chair and ran from the table, out of the dining room, down the corridor and up the stairs. He burst into the bathroom adjoined to his bedroom and quickly washed his hands and face. He changed from pajamas to suitable park clothes and shoes.

And then, finally, they were on their way to the park just a few streets over from their home. Ursa watched her son as he played beneath a tree. She watched with rapt attention as some larger kids approached the area. She watched with motherly concern as words were exchanged. When it seemed to escalate, however, into physical exchanges, that was when she left her seat at the bench. Exchanges of blows were just on the threshold when she reached the scene, grabbing Zuko by the arm. The last thing she needed was to have to replace another shirt or pair of pants of Zuko's because of some brawl. Her son, however, did not seem to have this thought in mind, as he shouted insults back at the other boys. She admonished him for his behaviour and he seemed to notice her for the first time.

"But why should they get the place all to themselves just because they're bigger?"

Ursa didn't have an answer for that.

"You need to make friends," she said instead.  
"Not with them."

Ursa didn't argue that point.

Eventually the two settled by the duck pond and Ursa withdrew a loaf of bread from her bag, handing it to her son.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"Mom? Can we go to the park today?"

Ursa walked from Zuko's closet, carrying a suit he'd only worn once or twice before that day. She didn't answer right away, as she was focused on smoothing the various parts of the set, inspecting carefully for wrinkles or other imperfections.

"Mom?"  
"No, Zuko honey."  
"Why not?"  
"We're meeting with the Baron."  
Another voice came into the room. "With grandfather, she means."  
"Why are we meeting with grandfather?" asked Zuko.  
"Don't call him that," said Ursa distractedly.  
"Azula did."  
"Well, that's Azula. Now get changed, I'll help you with what you can't do on your own."

She left the room, Zuko's eyes following her movements. At the doorway, a young girl, two years Zuko's junior leaned against the doorjamb, sticking her tongue out at him. He glowered at the girl who, a moment later, turned and skipped down the hall after their mother.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"...I at least have offspring, to follow in my footsteps, father."  
"What are you suggesting?"

Zuko sighed and looked at his mother, who was watching the scene with alarm. She seemed worried. Zuko didn't quite understand why. He found this business talk dreadfully boring. His father was always thinking business. He was always thinking of the land, of the crops, of the title possessed by the family. Zuko fidgeted where he sat, wondering how much longer the family would be here. He wondered if he would get to be outside at all that day. With no other options, Zuko let his mind wander. He let it leave the hall, let it leave the estate. He let it run through the fields and fly through the sky. It soared beneath the sun and over trees. It chased birds and swam with fish. He wished he were really out there and not in this stuffy place.

And when the meeting was over, he walked behind his father, not knowing any of what had transpired.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Days later, Zuko was alone in the park. He came alone; he sat alone; he wandered alone. No one paid him any attention at all. He might not have been there. Even the bigger kids, who had on so many occasions given him trouble, ignored him. He might not have even existed. Everyone went about their own business, and so did he.

The exception was a girl in a blue frock with long brown hair. She had darker skin than most of the other people in the park. She was possibly lower class. Maybe the daughter of a servant to one of the families who frequented this park. Perhaps she'd come to keep the company of one of the other kids playing or reading that day.

"Are you here alone?" she asked, sitting beside him at the duck pond.  
"Yes."  
"Me as well."  
Zuko simply nodded, tossing a piece of the bread he'd nicked from the kitchen into the water. There went some of his speculations. He glanced at her briefly, noting her large eyes and the exact shade of blue. It was like the sky on a particularly cold day in winter.  
"I think we're the only two on our own," the girl continued.  
"Imagine that."  
"Yeah, what are the odds?"  
Zuko offered her a large chunk of the bread. "Would you like to not be alone?"  
The girl accepted the bread with a smile. "Serendipity."  
"What kind of name is that?"  
She shook her head, tearing a small piece of bread from her chunk and tossing it into the water. "Not a name. Serendipity. Has to do with chances and unlikely things."  
"Oh."  
"But my name's Katara."  
"Zuko."


	2. Momentous

_**A/N: I forgot the disclaimer last time - I don't own Zuko, Katara, or ATLA. I just have oodles of free time. Also, this isn't strictly a modern AU. I envision this taking place in more of what we might call the late 1800s or very early 1900s. Maybe even earlier than that. I wasn't terribly specific, so if you're happier envisioning 20th or 21st century, be my guest. I just hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing **_**:)**

* * *

I suppose the real turning point must have been a few years later. Yes, that's right. If the beginning was when we met, then the real heart of this – the bit that set everything in motion – happened five years later. It was winter.

**Part II – Momentous**

Years later, they were still friends. Katara was there for Zuko when no one else was. That wasn't terribly special, however. Zuko _had _no other friends. Azula had friends. Zuko didn't like Azula's friends. But that was okay. Azula didn't like him and he didn't like her. They had a fairly tense truce set up since the loss of their mother. That was five years ago. He didn't know what happened to her, but he had more sense than to ask anyone, particularly his father. Still, not a day went by in which he didn't think about or miss her. He felt it strongest when he was at the park, feeding the ducks with Katara.

It was some sort of amazing, their still being friends after five years. They really didn't have anything in common. Well, not exactly. Katara didn't have a mother, just like Zuko. She didn't have any friends beside Zuko, just like he had no other friends besides Katara. It turned out that she wasn't a peasant, like Zuko had initially thought. Her father was a leader and in a position of power, much like Zuko's father, but over a smaller piece of land. But that was far away for the both of them. The families hadn't lived on their land in many years. They lived in town, and the estates were just on the outskirts of town. Long gone were the days of plantations and foremen and gigantic mansions.

But that was all far away for the two of them.

"How are your lessons going?" Katara asked one day as the two of them sat beneath a tree in the park.

"Fine."

"Are they still showing a lot of favor to your sister?"

Zuko glared at the ground in front of them as packed a handful of snow together. "They always show favor to her. They can't _not_ show her favor. It's like my dad always says…"

"She was born lucky."

"And I was lucky to be born."

An arm curled around Zuko's shoulders, and he was acutely aware of Katara's torso pressing against his as she squeezed him in a comforting, one-armed hug.

"You mustn't listen to him, Zuko."

"He's my _father_, Katara."

"Think about what your mother would say to that, though. She would agree with me. She would say that you have your own talents, that you're special in your own way."

Zuko shook his head. "She's my mother – she has to say that."

Katara gave Zuko another squeeze. "You know what else I think?"

"What?"

"Being lucky is overrated. You don't need it."

"I don't want it," he agreed.

And like that, he felt a little bit better. Katara always knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Perhaps that was why Zuko and Katara were still friends. They may not have had much in common, but they needed each other. By now, they knew each other. Whatever each of them may have lacked, they had each other.

The pile of packed snow in Zuko's hands had grown significantly. "I guess… thanks."

"What are friends for?" she asked, removing her arm from his shoulders.

Zuko nodded, continuing to add snow to the ever-growing lump in his hands. The cold was seeping through his gloves. Small amounts of the snow were melting, dampening the material around his hands just as it did to the blanket the two of them were sitting upon. How long had the two of them been sitting under that tree, talking, sometimes just sitting in quiet piece, not really needing to say anything at all?

A sharp cold pain erupted in his ear with a horrendous _whap_, making him jump away and fall to the ground. He frantically hit his ear, trying to make it go away. Snow. Cold. Ice. Snow. Snow had hit the side of his head. Katara had hit the side of his head with snow. To prove him correct, a tinkling laugh rang through the winter air, somehow alleviating and exacerbating the discomfort in his ear all at once. He tried to cry out, only for her to continue laughing.

"What's the point of packing that snow if you're not going to do anything with it?"

Zuko scrambled to sit up straight again and pooled a decent pile of snow in his hands, not worrying about packing it neatly. Instead, he just smooshed it into her hair, making sure to rub it into her scalp. Her laughs took on a small note of panic, but soon enough she was dropping snow onto his head and onto his shoulders as well.

It made for a rather endearing scene, the two of them rubbing snow onto the exposed parts of their skin, laughing and sometimes shouting in surprise. The snow was bright, but not blinding on account of the thick grey clouds that mostly blanketed the sky. There were two or three small patches of blue amongst these clouds, however, and today, they nearly a perfect match to the shade of Katara's eyes. The park was mostly empty, save for the two young teens so busy with chilling each other. This went on for several minutes, until finally, Katara dropped back down onto the blanket, breathing heavy and pulling bits of snow from her hair.

"Perhaps we should call it a day. I'm practically chilled to the bone. I could use a hot bath, couldn't you?"

There was no answer.

"Zuko?"

Silence.

Katara turned her head to face her friend and saw only a distant, uncomprehending look upon his face. He was looking at her, but at the same time, it was as if he wasn't really looking _at_ her. Rather, he seemed to be looking _through_ her, as if she might not have existed. She tried to get his attention yet again by saying his name, but there was, once again, no response. He just continued to stare at the place where she was sitting, but with no real perception of her sitting there. Her heart began to race in her chest. She hated it when he did this. She hated this stupid little game of his. It wasn't funny the first time, or the second time, or any of the times!

"_Zuko_."

All at once, his eyes slid back into focus. As soon as they did so, falling onto her face so full of concern, his gaze softened.

"What's wrong?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"What's wrong? I should be asking you that question. You were in one of your spells again."

"I couldn't – "

"Couldn't what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"I don't like it when that happens," Katara said.

Zuko hung his head and rumpled his hair. A flurry of snow and water droplets fell from the raven locks. "Me neither."

Katara wanted to tell him that if he didn't like it, to not do it, but there was something in his tone. Something she couldn't quite make out or explain told her that it wasn't that simple. But how could it not be that simple? How could he involuntarily just stop seeing what was right in front of him? How could he involuntarily stop hearing what right there in his ears? She might not have even existed. The thought brought a new wave of chills dashing up her spine.

She stood from the blanket and began folding it carefully. "I think we'd better go."

"That might be a good suggestion. I'm cold. I could use a bath."

Katara's stomach seemed to fall to her feet. He didn't seem to just be repeating what she'd said earlier. He was saying what he thought was a new statement. He truly worried her sometimes.

"I could as well. I need to get warm."

"I'll see you here tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so – wait, no. I can't. My Gran is coming by."

"Oh."

"But the day after?"

"Sure."

She closed the space between them and lightly pressed her lips against his cheek. They were warm, and slightly cracked from the elements. They weren't rough enough to be unpleasant, but they weren't as soft as they were during other times of the year – specifically in the spring and the summer, when the rains came and made everything soft. The rain would fall from the sky and the ground wouldn't be so hard. The trees wouldn't seem so solid. And Katara's skin would be like silk. But for now, in the harsh winter air, everything was cold, everything was hard, and nothing was like silk.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"Your lessons are going well?"

"Yes."

Zuko wanted to complain about the instructors. He wanted to tell his father his grievances about them and how they seemed to favor Azula so very much. But that wouldn't end well. His father would not show him sympathy. So Zuko stayed quiet. Zuko made sure to pretend that everything was going well. He answered simply and gave no indication that anything was wrong. After all, father would likely take Azula's side, as he always did. Even tonight, one of the rare times he was having dinner at home, Azula was allowed to be absent. She was allowed to go out and dine with a friend of the family. Zuko would never have been offered that same opportunity. It just went to show how unfair things could be when it came to how Zuko and Azula were treated by their own father. Perhaps if mother were still around…

"That is good."

In between these short snippets of conversation, the clink of utensils and dishes took over for words. The sounds of dinner were wildly different from the sounds of other meals. The knives, forks, and spoons against the china for one meal made distinct tinklings and clinks than from the china of the other meals. Those sounds served the set the very mood of the meal and determined how Zuko would behave and how he would answer the questions posed to him. Supper, particularly one in which his present, was a much more stiff and formal affair than otherwise. There would be no bickering between him and Azula, though she would goad him as much as was possible. She seemed to take some sick amount of pleasure in tormenting him. Even the siblings' mother didn't quite understand the child.

"What else did you do today?"

The question came from seemingly nowhere. Ozai never asked about Zuko's day. Of course, Ozai was rarely around to do such a thing. Zuko was thoroughly caught off guard. He froze, the fork in his hand mere inches from his mouth.

"Zuko?"

"I was at the park." The fork finished its journey and Zuko chewed mechanically.

"Did someone go with you?"

"I wasn't alone."

Ozai nodded, cutting through the meat on his plate. Even Zuko could see that he didn't really care. Should he be upset over such an obvious fact? Should he be hurt in some way?

"Are you prepared for the outing tomorrow? Did Lee take care of everything?"

Zuko had nearly forgotten about that. Good thing Katara would be busy as well. He'd hate to have left her in the cold park all alone. He swallowed his last bite heavily. "She did as mom asked. I'm finished."

For what seemed to be the longest minute in Zuko's life, Ozai stared at the young man with whom he was sharing the meal. Zuko thought that it might be the facial expression of someone listening to a foreign language.

"You may be excused."

* * *

_**Oh, and thank you to those who have reviewed! I'm glad that you both are enjoying it and I hope this lives up to your expectations. If not, please accept my most sincere apologies.**_


	3. Transcend

I didn't know it at the time, but that had in fact been the day in which everything changed. I didn't realize it for a while. Sometimes I think I must have been out of my mind to have not realized what was going on, and that brings a whole new round of laughter, because, that's exactly was I was. Rather, that's exactly what I am. _They_ tell me that I'm mad, at least. I guess… I guess I have no choice but to believe them. But doesn't the phrase go something along the lines of "crazy people don't know they're crazy"? If I believe them, that I'm mad, wouldn't that make me sane?

**Part III Transcend**

Katara turned the page in her book, but didn't read the next line of words. She released a low sigh and looked up and over the large pond in front of her. He was late. The chimes on the great clock began to chime and she leaned her head back to rest against the trunk of the tree against which she was leaning. Zuko had never been this late before. What could possibly be keeping him? Another five minutes… no, fifteen. She'd give him until the clock chimed once more before she gave up on him. Regretfully, she tore her eyes away from the fresh spring day and set them back on her book.

-24 hours earlier-

"So Zuko, how do you like your tutors?"

The fifteen-year old stared at the man behind the desk, his brow furrowed. Zuko just couldn't figure out this man. He didn't… make sense. His presence was confusing to Zuko. Zuko _knew_ who he was – the headmaster of some fancy boys boarding school. But why Zuko was talking to him in this stuffy office was beyond him. He liked his tutors just fine. His tutors liked him just fine. Zuko excelled in the lessons they gave to him. They were always telling him what an intelligent young man he was and that someday he would make a worthy successor to his father's title.

Perhaps father just wanted to ensure that such would be case, hence this meeting with this straight-backed headmaster in the stuffy office.

"They're fine."

"Do you think that they treat you fairly?"

An odd question for him to be asking, Zuko thought to himself. He contemplated the answer as he reached up and lightly scratched the corner of his left eye.

"Yes."

_Scratch, scratch._

"What about… Azula?"

Zuko bristled immediately. The scratching of his eye became a light rubbing.

"I don't want to talk about her."

There was something in his eye, and the rubbing wasn't helping.

"Do you think your tutors are playing favourites?"

"I don't want to talk about Azula."

The light rubbing of his left eye was becoming more vigorous. What if he had conjunctivitis? Could he have gotten it from this office? It was stuffy and it smelled funny. He didn't like it. He didn't like this school. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to the park. Luckily, Katara's Gran was visiting her again, so she wouldn't be lonely without Zuko's presence.

"How old is she?"

"It's not relevant."

The headmaster seemed to contemplate Zuko. Perhaps he was thinking that Zuko was uncooperative. Well, if that were what it would take to stay out of this place, then Zuko would be the most uncooperative brat the headmaster had ever seen.

"Son, would you like someone to look at your eye?"

His eye just wouldn't stop itching and burning. Nevertheless, Zuko shook his head. It was this place's fault that his eye was bothering him in the first place. He didn't trust any of them to look at it properly. Besides, what could they really do besides tell him to splash some water into it? They weren't doctors.

"Very well. Why don't you go outside and take a look in a mirror, make sure there isn't something caught in there that shouldn't be? I'd like to talk to your father."

Zuko stood from the chair and effortlessly crossed the room to the door. His hand gripped the doorknob securely, but before he twisted it, he paused and looked back at the man behind the desk. He was roughly Ozai's age, maybe a bit younger. Strange that he should already be headmaster. Perhaps it was a case of nepotism. It certainly wouldn't be the first.

"Thank you for your time, for meeting with me," Zuko said politely.

"Not at all, son."

The doorknob twisted with a low _creak_, and soon, Zuko was out the door. His father stood from his seat and walked by his son silently, though he did rest a hand on Zuko's shoulder for the briefest of moments. Zuko felt no warmth from the gesture. He took no comfort from it, felt no admiration, no sense of love or adoration. It was hollow. It was a moment of physical contact between father and son, and nothing more. Just as soon as it had started, it had stopped. It might have been if you were walking by a chair in a narrow corridor and unconsciously reached out, taking hold of it for some form of guidance so that you didn't walk into the wall. Zuko was both the chair and the wall.

And he still had something in his eye.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"Zuko, I don't want you going to the park on your own."

The young teen paused. What his father was really saying was that he didn't want Zuko going to the park – at all. Zuko's hands squeezed into fists and then relaxed. He couldn't do that. There was no on who could accompany Zuko. Everyone had jobs to do in the large house and they couldn't spare half the day watching him spend time with a friend. Besides, he was _13 years old_. He didn't need a babysitter.

Despite the irritation Zuko felt, he didn't falter; he didn't let it show. "May I ask why not?"

Ozai was thumbing through the post, checking addresses and the like. "Your time is better spent here, bettering yourself."

His father wanted him to spend all day, every day at home? Zuko's mother had said shortly before leaving that he needed friends. Now he had one and his father didn't even want him to see that friend?

"As if that were even possible," said a new voice. Azula was standing in the doorway to the dining room, a smug look on her face. She may have been two years his junior, but she was annoyingly talented and a huge know-it-all. She drove Zuko crazy and she knew it. But he remained silent, only giving her a quick glare, which his father just happened to catch. Ozai looked over his shoulder, at Azula for a moment, then back at Zuko.

"Right then."

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Katara shut her book. The quarter past bells were chiming. Zuko hadn't shown up, and given the time, it was likely that he wouldn't at all. It was with a regretful sigh that she stood up and began folding the small blanket that the two of them were always sitting upon when they met. The blanket and the book were bundled in her arms and she was just beginning to walk away from the tree when her name was called out by a short of breath voice.

"Zuko?" she asked, turning to verify that it was indeed her friend. He seemed disheveled and incredibly flustered. Had he just run here? "Zuko, what's wrong?" He had stopped at just an arm's length away and was bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Katara shifted the items in her arms and gently rubbed his back. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad," she said to him.

Zuko simply shook his head. It was still too difficult for him to try to spit out what had happened. Katara led him to a bench, still rubbing his back comfortingly. His left eye was puffy and a sharp red colour. She would have to ask about that... if she got the chance.

"I'm… not supposed… not supposed to be here."

Katara couldn't figure out what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"My father… doesn't want me coming around anymore. So I snuck out. I ran away."

Katara's mouth fell open and her hand stopped at around his mid-back.

"You _ran away_?" she asked.

"Yes."

"But… but… where will you go? Where will you sleep?"

"I…."

"You don't have anywhere, do you? Did you even think this through at all?"

"Well…"

"Zuko!"

"He said I couldn't come here anymore! He said he didn't want me to see you!"

"Zuko, we'll figure something out. I'll… I'll come to you! We can spend time in your backyard! I'll sneak over the wall."

"You'd do that? For me?"

Katara moved her hand from his back, instead, gripping his hand with it. "Of course I would."

Zuko closed the distance between their faces, pressing his lips against hers for the briefest of moments. It was spring, and so they had returned to their normally soft, silken state. But he'd never felt them against his own lips before, only against his cheek or forehead. This was new. This was exciting. And it was absolutely perfect. For the shortest of moments, everything was perfect. And then Zuko pulled away and stood from the bench. He turned and began running the way he came, calling over his shoulder: "I'll see you tomorrow! Around 1!"

Katara watched him leave, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She lifted the hand that had been holding his to her lips, which were tingling from the kiss. Her hand, which had been holding his, was tingling as well. She realized, right then, that she rather loved that silly boy.

* * *

_**A/N: Once again, thank you to all who have been reading this! Reviews make me happier than if I ate a whole pint of my favourite ice cream.**_


	4. Whimsical

We never got caught with our new arrangement. I could say that it was surprising or an amazing coincidence, but it wasn't. There are almost always reasons for things that happen. But that's for later. What matters, is that we were able to continue spending time much as we always had. What matters, is that we spent time _together_.

**Part IV – Whimsical**

"_Zuko_."

The teen seemed to jump in his skin, his eyes sliding back into focus. "What?" he asked, taking a breath for the first time in what seemed to be ages.

"You were gone. For a while." Katara reached a hand out, placing it lightly against his forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

Zuko shrugged out of her hand and took hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Yes, I'm fine."

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, worming her wrist from his grasp and weaving her fingers between his.

"It was nothing."

"It couldn't have been '_nothing'_, Zuko. I was trying to get your attention for ages."

"Well you have it now," he replied, lifting their entwined hands to his lips and lightly pressing them against the back of her hand.

"But now I don't remember what I was going to say," she pouted.

"Well it can't have been –"

She cut him off. "If you dare say 'it can't have been anything important', I will strike you."

"I'm not saying anything," he teased.

A slight breeze swirled around them, lifting red and orange leaves from the tree under which they sat and making them rain down upon the pair. Zuko picked up one of them and gazed at it momentarily before turning his upper body to face Katara. He removed his hand from hers and gently maneuvered the short stem of the fallen leaf into the braid by her ear.

"Besides," he said at length, "everything you say is important."

"Oh sure, you say that now."

"And always will."

"Well fine. In that case, everything _you_ _think_ is important. So what were you thinking about a moment ago?" she asked.

"Nothing." Katara began to protest but he shook his head. "Really, I wasn't really thinking of _anything_ in particular. I suppose that I just… got lost."

"Got lost?" asked Katara.

Zuko nodded, picking up another leaf and twirling it between his fingers.

"You got lost in your own mind?"

Amber eyes met sapphire. "You know, the way the leaves contrast with your eyes is rather striking. Autumn is your season."

"You're changing the subject," she said, trying to hold back a smile.

"Because this one is far more interesting," he joked, threading another leaf into another segment of her braid.

"My conversation isn't interesting. I see. I suppose I should be insulted."

"Not at all, given that the conversation I'm favouring is the one complimenting you."

Katara supposed that she couldn't particularly argue with that. She told him as such, prompting him to pull her face closer to his so that he could press his lips against her cheek. The action brought a faint blush to Katara's cheeks and made her heart flutter.

Katara loved spending time with Zuko, she quite honestly did. In fact, she was pretty sure that she loved _Zuko_, himself. He could make her smile without hardly trying. He was compassionate, and cared deeply for his loved ones. Katara knew that she was in that category. When he was around Katara, he never had to prove himself. He could let go and just _be_ himself. Katara turned her head, her lips meeting his. The two had grown closer since the spring, if that were even possible. However, with so much time spent together, and the two of them being so close, she would have to be lying if she said she didn't worry about him. His "spells" were becoming longer. There were less of them, but there would be whole minutes where he didn't respond and in which it was like he didn't see her. She just didn't understand, and he never talked about it, no matter how often or how hard she questioned him.

"I hope your parents don't throw a fit over your hair," he said after they had broken apart.

"That sounds more like your parents," she reminded him.

"Right. Yeah, I guess it does."

"I should probably get going soon," she said. The sun was falling, seemingly quicker now that it was later.

"What? No!"

"But Zuko, it's nearly sunset! Won't you have to go inside soon anyway?"

"Just a little longer?"

"Well…"

"Please? Katara, please?"

"I… yeah, sure."

"Great!"

* * *

_**A/N: I apologize for how short this turned out. Maybe sometime I'll go back and add to it.**_


	5. Heartstrings

But then something happened. After all, something always happens, doesn't it?

**Part V – Heartstrings**

"I don't want to talk about Azula."

"Why not, Zuko?"

"I just don't."

"There has to be a reason."

Yes, there were always reasons for everything, weren't there? There was a reason Zuko saw so many Headmasters without ever being admitted into any of the schools. There was a reason they always asked him about his relationships with his family. There was a reason why after one in particular, his father had essentially confined him in the house. There were reasons for all of these, but they were just on the edge of Zuko's mind. They were right on the tip of his tongue. It was a curious riddle, and solving riddles had never been one of Zuko's talents.

"I just…. I just don't." He was hyperventilating and his left eye was bothering him again.

"That's not a reason, Zuko."

His airway was closing up. His head was spinning. His eye burned. The office was boiling. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He was spiraling into a horrible vortex of panic and confusion and he was powerless to stop it.

So he didn't try.

"I want to go home."

"Zuko, you're in no danger here."

"I want to go home!"

"Zuko, clam down."

"I want to go home!"

"Zuko-"

But the boy had started screaming, his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight against the truth. He screamed so he wouldn't have to say it. He covered his ears so he wouldn't have to hear it. He bowed his head so he wouldn't have to face it. He shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it.

Zuko didn't stop screaming until after the needle had exited his skin. He didn't stop screaming until the drug hit the right nerve receptors. He didn't stop screaming until those nerves reacted and his brain slipped into another state. And then he slumped to the ground and he knew no more.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"Zuko? You're awake?"

He swallowed heavily and clenched his eyes shut. His head was pounding.

"Wha-what happened?" he croaked. His throat was dry and burning. His eye was itching, but not as bad as it had been back in the office.

"_Tell me about Azula. How old is she? What is she like? Do you two get along?"_

"_I don't want to talk about her."_

"I heard you had a, uh, breakdown."

"I-"

"_When was she born? How does she get along with your father? How did she get along with your mother?"_

"_I don't want to talk about it."_

"Zuko, what happened?"

He finally opened his eyes. It was getting dark, and he was lying in a bed that was foreign to him. Katara was sitting in a chair beside him, holding his hand.

"I didn't want to talk about it," he finally said.

"Talk about what?"

"_What about your mother? When did she leave? Why did she leave?"_

"_I… I don't know the answer to that."_

"_Was it her idea to leave?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_When did she leave?"_

"My mother or Azula."

"Why not, Zuko? Why didn't you want to talk about them?"

"_There has to be a reason."_

"I just didn't."

The two of them were silent for a while, and then, with a gentle squeeze around his hand, Katara smiled and said, "Alright, Zuko. You don't have to explain to me." But he did. He did have to explain to her, because he loved her and she needed to know. He needed to face this truth.

No matter how painful.

The room was beginning to warm up, just as the office had, and his airway was closing.

"Because they're not…"

"Not what?"

He couldn't say it. He wouldn't. If he said it, then that would make it real. The truth would be there for everyone to see. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"Real."

Katara didn't say anything, choosing instead to grip his hand tighter. A tear leaked out of his left eye, and then his right.

"They're not real," he said.

His airway was opening up – it had no choice. Somehow, the sobs had to find a way out. They didn't just find a way out; they forced themselves out of his chest. They ripped through him, forcing him to sit up in the strange bed. The flow of tears increased as each sob tore at him, physically and emotionally. Katara released his hand and threw herself against him, wrapping him tight in her arms. He cried out, low and mournful as the truth reverberated in his head.

"It's okay, Zuko. It's okay."

"It's not," he wailed.

"Shh, it'll all be okay."

"No it won't!"

"I'm here for you Zuko. I'm telling you that it's all okay and that it'll _be_ okay."

"H-h-how d-d-d-do you kn-kn-know?"

"I just do."

He continued to cry and she rocked him gently. He pulled his head into the crook of her neck and softly smoothed his hair as she continued to make shushing noises in his ear. He could hear them sometimes, and they almost worked. But then another wave of horror would crash over him and he would wail again, the snot, the tears, and the thick saliva running down his face, down his chin. He wrapped his arms around her middle, holding onto her like his life depended on it. She was his life raft. She was his connection to the world. She was what he could hold onto to keep him grounded. She kept him from floating out too far into the sea and kept him from drowning just then. She was always there to keep him from drowning.

And as he accepted this, the truth bore into his brain even deeper.

There was no Azula. There was no Ursa. Not anymore, at least. It was, and had been for the past 15 years, just Zuko and his father. His mother, Ursa, had indeed been pregnant when he was two years of age. He'd been too young to truly remember that time. He was supposed to have a younger sibling, two years his junior. But there had been problems with the delivery. He remembered now, the screaming in the house. He remembered his father in the hallway, his head in his hands. He hadn't understood.

"_She was lucky," his father had said, mostly to himself. "She didn't suffer. She was born lucky."_

Zuko had sat clumsily at his father's feet. His father had looked at him wearily; with something like… was it pity? Was Zuko just implanting the facial expression he wanted to see?

"_I suppose, Zuko… I suppose you were lucky to be born… healthy… strong…"_

Azula had been stillborn. There had been complications. Ursa had died a few hours later.

Zuko had never fought with Azula. He had never gone to the park with Ursa. The Headmasters weren't Headmasters. There were no boarding schools.

Ozai was simply making sure Zuko would be okay… that he didn't need extreme help. Institutionalization.

"Stay with me?" Zuko finally asked.

"Of course."


	6. Faded and Seasons

_**A/N: I had these written on time, but real life got in my way. My sincerest apologies for that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these last segments. This has been one of the shortest stories I've ever written, but I hope the quality isn't as dismal as the word count. Anyway, reviews are deeply loved, even if they're to tell me that I'm horrible.**_

* * *

You might think that after that revelation, things got better. But they didn't. This isn't some story with a happy ending, after all. This isn't some fairy tale. Things always get worse before they get better; we all learn that lesson eventually. Some learn it easier than others.

**Part VI – Faded**

"Don't you want to go outside?" asked Katara.

"No."

She sighed softly and turned her head to gaze out the window. Zuko never wanted to go outside. Long gone were the days when they would sit under a tree, feeding ducks. Long gone were the days when they would stare at the sky and identify shapes in the clouds. Long gone were the days when she would read to him. Long gone were the days when they would just sit next to each other, enjoying the company the other provided, sometimes talking about a whole range of topics and sometimes just sitting in quiet.

She missed those days more than she cared to admit to anyone. She would never dream of complaining to Zuko, however. He was always trying to tell her that she didn't have to come visit him. He would try to talk her out of showing up the next day, and sometimes he was cold and indifferent towards her in an attempt to protect her. After all, she was wasting her time, her efforts, and her heart on "someone like him". She tried to tell him that she didn't care about his illness or his problems, that she loved him for who he was, and that was that. But he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted her to find someone "normal".

"Would you like me to read to you?"

"No."

"Would you like to play a game? I saw whole stacks of board games and playing cards. I may have even seen a Pai Sho set."

"No."

"What would you like to talk about?"

"Nothing."

Her hand reached out, gently spreading over one of his. His hands were always so cold these days. He used to be so… dynamic, passionate, and fiery. It was like his flame had gone out. Even the smoldering embers had cooled. There was no passion. There was no fire. Zuko was just… gone. Her Zuko, that is.

"Zuko, you'll get better. Just… have faith."

He shook his head.

"You will! The doctors here are the best!"

"Katara…"

There was a long pause. She stared at him for a moment, gauging the silence. It wasn't like the silences he would have so long ago. He wasn't silent because he was lost in his head. There were never times where he seemed to stare through her.

"I'm not getting better."

"You just need to give it time, Zuko."

"It's been three months. I… she's always here."

"Who?" she asked stupidly. She knew the answer already.

"Azula."

"Your sister?"

"The one I'm not supposed to be seeing. She's never gone. She's always here. I never _not_ see her."

And that was the whole reason he was here. The doctors were supposed to be helping him to not imagine her. They were supposed to help him not see her. Because it wasn't just some imagination problem that Zuko was experiencing. He truly _saw_ her. She had a personality, she had likes and dislikes, and she was a _person_. She really was _there_. But she wasn't. She couldn't be there. But three months had gone by with Zuko in this room, in this bed, and she hadn't gone away. If anything, she had just become permanent.

"Zuko…"

"Visiting hours are nearly over."

She just stared at him for a moment, not sure _why_ he was always trying so hard to push her away. "I still have a few minutes."

Zuko only shrugged.

* * *

**Part VII – Seasons**

I wish I could say that was the end of it all. That she was right and I got better. I wish I could say that in time I was released, to live a long, successful life. I wish I could say that I took over my father's position, that I married Katara, and that we lived happily ever after. I wish a lot of things.

But wishing isn't doing, isn't living, isn't real life.

Because the reality that I really never wanted to face, but had to in the end, was that she too wasn't real. That for whatever reason, when I had to give up my mother, I created a replacement. Many seasons have passed since I found this out. Even more have passed since I first came in here. I may still get out someday. Maybe. If I want to get out, that is. According to the doctors and the healers, it's all up to me. I decide, apparently, when I want to be released. They tell me I'm being uncooperative. But I can't help it. I can't help that Azula still taunts me. I can't help that Katara still comforts me. I can't help that I see them and nothing the "doctors" are doing are helping to make it all better.

So I sit by the window and I watched the seasons pass. I watch the leaves turn. I watch them fall only to be covered with snow a short time later. I watch the snow melt, I watch the grass grow, I watch the flowers appear and then die. I watch it all from behind my window.

And the whole time, she sits beside me.

Because she loves me.


End file.
